


Starkiller

by FrostedLemon (ChilledLime)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Cannibalism, Crime Scenes, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Season/Series 01, Someone Help Will Graham, Strangers to Lovers, Werewolf! Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChilledLime/pseuds/FrostedLemon
Summary: Why he wanted to pursue the presumed canine was beyond him, and it was an action he’d be hitting himself mentally over later. But in his state, tried from the events of the day, he couldn’t be expected to think rationally. Or at least that was his excuse.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally never written these two before and also haven't finished the show, so forgive me if they're mildly ooc.
> 
> updates every Sunday and Thursday

“You seem troubled.” Hannibal mused from behind him, and Will didn’t have to look to know he was quirking his brow at him. He let out a breathy scoff, letting his hands drift away from where they were lingering against the spines of books.

“No kidding.” He stepped away from the shelf, seating himself back down in his designated chair. Hannibal’s eyes followed his movements, but they didn’t make him as uncomfortable as it might’ve from someone else. The plush welcomed him easily, and if he were more at ease, he probably could’ve fallen asleep in it. But as is, he just rubbed his palm against the fabric of his jeans. 

“The cause of another case? Jack seems to be spreading you awfully thin, as of late.” The other man hummed, crossing his legs together and giving Will a look. 

Will found himself nodding. “It’s just- I can’t seem to get into the mind of this one.” 

Hannibal’s mouth twitched, a motion for him to continue.

“The body was mutilated, organs missing.”

“That sounds like the work of the Chesapeake Ripper, no?”

He shook his head. “Not him. His work is artful, in a macabre way. This was just.. animalistic. When I try and get into the killer’s head, it’s just.. noise.” Will swallowed. “And- Jack seems understanding, but I know he wants to get this wrapped up quickly, as always.” He pushed the bangs out of his face, the frustration from earlier bubbling back up. 

“Your inability to understand them is dragging your mental state down further than it’s already been, Will. Though you don’t seem to appreciate your gift, you still rely on it more than you believe.”

Will huffed, releasing the tension in his hands without looking down. “Yeah, tell me something I don't already know.”

Hannibal hummed, fingers twitching over to the black journal on the table, but he didn’t pick it up. “Are you sure it’s not just a clever animal?”

“Definitely not. Even a bear couldn’t have caused the mess this was.. and there aren’t any wolves in the area anymore.”

* * *

Tires crunched under the gravel as Will neared his home, the weathered Volvo he drove groaning from the rocky terrain. His previous conversation with Hannibal was still repeating through his mind, only furthering to conflict his feelings on the other man. 

He was charming - no one could deny that. But he  _ understood  _ Will, and that’s what scared him the most. Even from their limited conversations, he could feel something lurking underneath the surface with Hannibal. It was awfully similar to the thing he tried to push down, hiding it away with mental blocks.

_ “I build forts.”  _

_ “Associations come quickly.” _

_ “So do forts.” _

It was one - if not the first exchange they had, and still it haunted Will’s thoughts whenever he was alone for too long. Subsequent meetings evoked the same reaction, although he felt less like a caged animal than the first time, with the analyzing gaze from Hannibal burning into the side of his head.

The stereo was silent, accompanying the feeling of lonesomeness sitting in his bones. A slow march away from civilization, daunting; yet comforting nonetheless. Where no one roamed the fields but him and his pack, quiet. Just how he liked it. 

It almost felt wrong to break the trance, as he pulled up into his driveway and put the car into park. Headlights illuminated the dirt in front of him, barely reflecting back into his eyes. Will squinted, gathering his coat from where it rested on the passenger seat and pushing open the car’s door.

Somehow, the outside's silence was even more oppressing than inside the vehicle, and Will could feel the soft innate urge to go inside. Draping the garment over his shoulder, he pushed open the door, a small, uncontrollable smile hitting his face as his dogs surrounded him, tails wagging like helicopter blades. 

They eagerly followed him inside, watching from their spots as he refilled the food bowls and replaced the stale water with fresh. When he motioned for them to eat, they swarmed over - eager but orderly. Will  _ knew  _ he was a good trainer, but seeing the effort in action still made his heart swell with pride. 

He tossed the green coat over on the couch dismissively, kicking off his shoes and placing his socks neatly inside. Padding over to the fridge, he almost shivered at how the cold wood felt against the soles of his feet. It was often a grounding technique he found himself using - however subconscious it may be - and it always seemed to help. 

Pulling open the doors, Will winced at the temporary blast of old air hitting his face, before quickly adjusting to the sensation. It was.. mostly empty. A definitely expired jug of milk near the back, a few apples in the fruit compartment, and-  _ ah _ . 

Will retrieved a half-eaten granola bar from the main shelf, the empty portion of the wrapper still hanging sadly off of the rest. 

It wasn’t dinner. It wasn’t even  _ close  _ to dinner. But he would be damned if he’d make anything else at the moment.

Seating himself down at the table, he idly ate the remaining bits and watched as the dogs slowly finished their own meals, one by one making their way over to him and plopping down onto the floor. He knew what they wanted. 

When all of them were finished, he hauled himself back up, opening the front door and letting them all scurry out into the tall grass. Winston was the last to leave, giving him an indecipherable but distinctly dog look before heading out to join the rest of the pack. 

He lingered in the doorway, observing the faint dark shapes of his dogs prancing around. The thought of Hannibal drifted back into orbit, and imagining what said man might be doing that this hour made his breath hitch. 

Not that he’d ever admit that.

Will’s once relaxed body tensed as a howl pierced through the night,  _ angry.  _ Some howls sounded mournful, like a song being sung in the early morning. This was not that. Jaw clenching, he walked out onto the porch, making a short noise so his pack would come back. A few stragglers were already heading back, once bouncy tails stiffly pointing towards the ground. 

He ushered them inside, taking a quick headcount before dashing back inside and grabbing his gun - putting on tall boots as an afterthought.

_ Why _ he wanted to pursue the presumed canine was beyond him, and it was an action he’d be hitting himself mentally over later. But in his state, tried from the events of the day, he couldn’t be expected to think rationally. Or at least that was his excuse. All he could think about was the possible danger his dogs were in, and how he was willing to fight heaven and hell to keep them safe. 

With the dogs safely inside, he ventured out into the dark, cursing himself shortly after for not bringing a flashlight along with him. His hand stayed firmly on the gun where it sat in the holster, staring out intently into the dark. 

He wasn’t sure how far he’d walked before he finally heard something. A snap of a nearby twig, a dark form, and everything was in motion. 

Will shot blindly into the dark, unable to properly make out the beast from the land surrounding. It lunged forward, and with a  _ crunch, _ took a bite out of his hip; tearing through the flimsy jean fabric with ease. Will cried out in pain, doubling over to try and shield the bite from any more pain. He didn’t have to see to feel the gush of blood spilling into the grass. 

His finger pushed down on the trigger.

_ Crack.  _

His ears began to ring, vision blurring - but the onslaught of attacks stopped. Will fell to his knees, gasping for air as he dropped the gun, shaking as he covered up the wound with his hand. The scent of metal stung his nose, sticky blood clinging onto his hands. 

In the distance, the form lumbered away, a trail of blood following it. 

After what seemed like hours of stumbling through the dark, Will finally saw the lights inside his house in the distance. Breaking into a painful sprint, he ignored the signals his body was giving him to try and slow down. 

When he got to the porch, he almost collapsed, holding onto the rim of the door as his lifeline - other hand pressed against his injured hip. A small puddle of blood dripped onto the wood as he stood, and he was sure the palm of his hand was completely soaked. 

The cleanup was.. less than ideal. After he had shooed away the worried dogs and locked himself in the bathroom, all Will could really have the energy to do was stop the bleeding and hastily cover it with gauze. 

He knew, sitting on the bathroom floor and staring at the pale white gauze - he wouldn’t be able to go in tomorrow if Jack required. 

Will dreaded the following day’s call, however necessary it may be.


	2. Chapter 2

The bedsheets felt clammy against his skin, the first sensation he could pinpoint as he woke. 

Will had been up before, woken by the shrill screech of his alarm. He had made the call to Jack, voice raspy, and the other man had decided to grace him with minimal chastising before hanging up. He must've passed back out for a few more hours, judging by his current state. 

Will groaned, sharply jerking his feet to move the duvet further off of himself. The cool air was welcomed, and he sighed, practically able to feel the sweat evaporate. For once, he wasn’t plagued by night terrors during his sleep; instead replaced with nothing. 

He couldn’t say he missed them.

The second feeling he could pick out was pain, radiating from his injury acquired the previous night. It made him wince, his first instinct to get himself up and get his trusty painkillers to dull the sensation. 

After a few more minutes of laying down, he managed to do so, breathing uneasy everytime he moved wrong and caused more discomfort. Will made his way to the bathroom, dry swallowing two tablets without a second thought. Ignoring his reflection in the dirty mirror, he splashed cold water on his face, letting his eyes fall shut as he did so.

While he wasn’t happy about the circumstances that led him to having to take the day off, he couldn’t deny that it was a welcome one. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to take a true, restful day just to himself. 

His only regret was that he couldn’t exactly fish with his hip as compromised as it was. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, he found his pack staring expectantly at him from their spots on the floor. The sun’s rays poked through the drawn curtains, alluding to it being a later time than he’d normally get up. 

“Alright, alright, just gimme a minute guys.” He huffed, stepping around their fluffy forms and making his way to the coffee machine. Will set it to start brewing, staring at it momentarily before going over to the door and letting out the dogs. Same as always, they streamed out and into the field, trimmed claws clicking against the wooden floor. 

He watched them until the coffee dinged, drawing him back over like a moth to a flame. Pulling out his favorite mug, Will eagerly filled it to the brim, taking a grateful sip. The warm liquid burned down his throat, a normally unpleasant feeling, but not now. 

Nursing the mug, Will sat down at the table, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his jeans - he had forgotten to undress before collapsing in bed, it seems. There were a few unread messages from Alana, because  _ right,  _ he hadn’t told anyone but Jack. 

Skimming over the worried texts, Will slid on her contact and let the phone begin to ring. He let himself take another large sip before she answered with: “Will?”

“Yeah? I saw your texts.” His voice was still slightly graveled, but the coffee had helped to minimize the scratchiness of his throat. 

“Oh, good. I’m guessing you just slept in then?”

“It appears like it.”

“Unusual.”

Will could practically hear her brain turning on the other side of the line, before she replied again. 

“Well- Jack didn’t give me many details, but he did seem worried.. or as worried as he shows.” Alana hummed. “I figured it’d be better to just ask you myself why you got the day off, instead of waiting.”

His hand rubbed against the ceramic mug, letting himself a moment to think before responding. “Got attacked by an animal.”

The silence rang between them. 

“Seriously? I guess that's not the worst thing that could’ve happened, but still, Jesus. How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad-” Will’s eyes wandered back down to the gauze peeking out from underneath his still blood-stained shirt. “I didn’t really have the energy to clean it much. Hurts like a bitch, though.”

“Okay.. I’m sure Hannibal would want to look at it, whenever you’re willing.”

“I’d really rather he not,” His tone sharpened. “I don’t need him- worrying. It’s not a big deal. Don’t tell him.”

A pause. 

Will added: “Please.”

Alana audibly sighed over the phone, and he could picture her disappointed face. “You’re lucky I’m not anybody else.”

He smiled softly, taking another drink of his coffee. “That I am.”

“You should get shots though, at the very least. Since you didn’t mention what it was, I’m assuming you didn’t see it very well.” 

Grimacing, he let his lips linger on the rim of the mug. “Didn’t really think about that. Everything in between then and now is.. blurry, to say the least.”

“That’s really not helping your case, Will. Do you need me to drive you?”

Will found himself shaking his head, despite knowing she wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. “N-No, I can drive. I did an okay job at cleaning it up, although I’m sure it’s not great compared to the hospital’s standards.”

“Let me know when you’re back home, okay? I know you don’t like people fretting over you.”

“Okay.”

“Talk to you later, Will; and get that taken care of.”

A click, and the line was dead. 

The hospital visit went as well as it could’ve. After showing the gauze under his shirt to the receptionist, and explaining his situation, he was taken from the waiting room pretty soon after. The nurse had looked unbothered at the definitely-infected wound, taking off his hastily applied gauze and cleaning it thoroughly - the sting letting Will know it was working. 

When it was patched up to the doctor’s satisfaction, he was given the first of four rabies shots, and was instructed to return to the hospital in three days for the next. After he was handed a few papers, he was sent on his way. 

While he wasn’t looking forward to getting more injections, he knew they were necessary to prevent him from having an untimely end. 

And even though the dogs wouldn’t be able to know, they seemed relieved when he returned. 

* * *

Hannibal had been more than a little irritated when Alana wouldn’t disclose the reasons for Will's absence. He knew Jack Crawford was a less than forgiving boss, and the fact he was allowed to take a day away from his job was a testament to the seriousness of it. 

He had left Will a curt voicemail in passing between patients, but tried not to give it too much thought. Attachments were never good. 

When he heard that the man was back the next day, Hannibal had excused himself during his lunch hour and drove to the lecture hall without a second thought. 

The room was dark, with a few small lights on the ceiling illuminating the stage where Will stood. Leaning against the doorway, he shifted to the other wouldn’t be able to notice him without looking. 

“This killer- they’re not thinking rationally.” Will’s voice rang throughout the open room. He hit the button on his remote, and the next slide showed - picturing a gory scene of what was presumed to be the latest victim. 

“Nothing was done carefully. There was no thought if the victim was alive during the attack, or any signs of a weapon used. It wasn’t an act of passion, or premeditated.”

Will shifted, allowing the silence to speak for itself. His right foot was partially held off of the ground, and whenever he moved idly it would always be favoring the left. 

Hannibal’s eyebrow rose at the revelation, and let Will’s words fade as he watched the man’s movements. Sure enough, something was wrong with his right side. He pursed his lips, allowing himself to refocus on what was being said. 

“One may compare it to an animal attack. The question is, what would drive someone to act so animalistic?”

Will flicked his hand, the slides going dark. Students rushed out of the room, Hannibal moving further into it so he wouldn’t get jostled. He could tell when Will noticed him, tired eyes giving away his less-than-ideal energy. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, setting down the remote on his desk. “Don’t you have.. patients, or something?” Will turned his back to Hannibal, collecting his notes from where they were strewn across the table. 

“I’m currently occupying my lunch break.” Hannibal replied, taking a step closer and looking as closely as he could at the other’s side. Whatever was the cause, it was covered enough by his shirt he couldn’t figure it out. “I’m surprised Jack Crawford let you take a day of rest at all.” 

Will turned back to him, clutching the straightened stack of papers in his arms. “This is what that’s about?”

“Certainly. Anything that causes you to take time off is worth discussing.”

“This isn’t my hour.”

“Does it matter? All we have are conversations, they need not be constrained to any particular room.” He licked his lips idly, eyes roaming back to Will’s. 

“It’s not a big deal, really. If it were, I’d still be at home.” He snapped, walking past Hannibal to leave. 

Normally, such rudeness would’ve landed him on Hannibal’s dinner table. But this was Will. And Will was an exception to such rules. 

He grabbed the other man’s sleeve, tugging him back around. “Don’t allow my prodding to get to you, Will. I’m merely concerned.” His hand slipped back down, and he adjusted his posture. “I didn’t just drive all the way here for that, anyhow. I wanted to invite you for dinner, and perhaps discuss your latest case - if you’re willing to do so.” 

Will sighed, looking defeated but strangely fond. “Yeah- okay, that does sound kind of nice. I don’t remember the last time I’ve had a decent meal.”

Hannibal smiled, eyes crinkling slightly. “Good. I’ll see you around 6 pm, if that time is acceptable?”

“It should be fine, but I’ll let you know if Jack wants me to work later.” 

Pleased, he nodded. “Of course.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of the next few days, Will found his energy returning. At first, he had excused it as having the injury properly cleaned and getting the first vaccination. The pain from the bite had ceased after a day or two, only leaving him mildly uncomfortable when he moved wrong. 

When he had so much pent up energy he had to go for a run, however, it was harder to ignore. The pack seemed happy to run with him, prancing around as he jogged through the fields around his house. He’d never been more thankful he lived in the middle of nowhere - no one was around to give him weird looks. 

Alana had thankfully stopped pestering Will as much, after he told her that he’d gotten the bite taken care of. She was surprised when he admitted he had taken a trip to the store to stock the fridge, after finding himself more hungry than he’d been in months. He’d returned with multiple packs of meat, some carbs, and vegetables. 

After his energy had returned, he’d found himself getting up earlier and earlier, allowing himself more time to unwind before he was called into work. 

Sweat still dampened the back of his shirt from his now daily morning run, his brown locks slightly greasy and falling into his face. 

His fridge almost looked like it belonged to a normal, stable person. Will stood in front of it, peering at the contents inside, satisfied. The next time Hannibal found his way over, he might not give Will such a disappointed look. 

Not that he cared about that, though.

Will made himself a quick breakfast of sausage and eggs - definitely  _ not  _ inspired by Hannibal’s protein scramble - and took it over to his desk. Setting down the plate in the cleanest space, he sat down and got to work on his bait. 

A blue feathered lure sat clamped, giving Will easier access to it. Thinking for a moment, he picked out a dark red twine and began wrapping it up, occasionally taking bites of his food. He was satisfied with it after a few minutes of working, and snipped off the twine with a pair of shears. Picking it off of the clamp, he slowly turned it in his fingers, inspecting the hook. 

He set it back down on the desk, wolfing down the rest of his food and putting the plate in the sink to be washed at a later time. The clock read  _ 7:37 AM,  _ alluding to the fact that Jack would probably be calling him soon - if there was a case, anyhow. 

Will took a quick hop in the shower, changing his loose white t-shirt into something more appropriate for work. After he tamed his hair to the best of his abilities, he took a few minutes to clean up the spaces while he waited for the phone to ring. 

Sure enough, the ringtone he’d assigned to Jack began to call throughout the house. 

None of the pack stirred, aside from an ear twitch or two; they were used to it by now. 

Walking over, he let the phone ring for a moment longer before answering. “Hello,”

“Will Graham.” Jack spoke, voice gravely as always; annoyance laced in his tone. “You better be up for field work today, we found another body.” 

“Same killer?”

There was a pause, and Will could picture him glancing at the body in question.

“Seems like it. It’s not too far from here, about twenty minutes. I’ll give you the place.” 

Will stood a few feet away from Jack, donning the glasses he always wore outside of the house. He was bundled up in the same green jacket from a few days ago, covering up the bite easily enough. Jack didn’t seem too concerned, though. Beverly and team had left a few minutes prior, headed back to the FBI vehicles parked a few yards away; after taking acceptable samples from the body. 

“Well?” The other man asked, giving him an expectant look. “What do you think?”

The body in front of them was in a similar state to the previous, deep gouges around their chest, ribcage busted open, and organs hastily removed. 

“It really does look like the work of an animal.” Will thought out loud, “But see those bite marks?” He motioned with his foot over to a large bite on the victim’s arm. “Those aren’t from any animal. It has some distinctly human traits that separate it from a dog, or a bear. Although..” He squinted at the marks. “Some of their teeth seem to be sharpened, maybe?”

“Bears don’t attack people like this.”

“No, they don’t.” 

“Let us know when you’re ready to come back,” Jack murmured, softer than he normally would, before heading back to the cars. 

Will slowly removed his glasses, sticking them in the pocket of his jacket. He let himself look at the body, before letting his eyes shut. 

The pendulum swung in his mind, and with every movement, all of the blood and gore disappeared. 

His eyes reopened. He steps forward. The picture of the victim - still alive and frightened, running through the woods - burns in his mind. 

“I didn’t seek them out on purpose.” He spoke to himself. “They’re just an unfortunate bystander, in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Will walks closer, stretching his hands. “They don’t notice me until it’s too late. I attack,” He grabs the imaginary person’s arm. “My nails dig into their arm, and I use my body weight to throw them to the ground. I’m furious, I’m  _ hungry.  _ I bite their neck, hitting a key artery.” 

He imagines himself doing just that, blood spilling onto his mouth. “As they bleed out, I tear open their chest, eating whatever meat I can find inside. I don’t care if they’re alive to feel it or not. There’s nothing.. nothing but hunger.” 

His hands tremble, as they grasp at the not-there vitals, tearing them out with a sickening squelch. “This is my design.” 

* * *

Hannibal watched as his last patient left the office, letting his eyes wander to Will, who was standing a few feet away, looking uncertain. His mouth quirked into a smile, as he motioned to his room. “Come in.”

The man in question followed Hannibal inside, shutting the door behind them. Walking over to the bookshelf, Hannibal slid out Will’s black journal from the other identical ones, although he didn’t really think he’d need it for this particular session. 

“Sit,” He hummed, mirroring Will as they sunk into the familiar black chairs. “Have you made any advancements in the current case?”

The brunette shrugged, staring at the floor. “I guess? It was easier seeing the victim in person.. But I still don’t really understand the killer’s motivation.” 

Hannibal tilted his head, inhaling the scents of the room and the man around him. Something was off. “Tell me about it.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I- I can see how it happened. But I only really feel flashes of emotion. I don’t.. I don’t really have a picture of what they look like, or why they do the things they do.”

“Well, what is it that you do know?”

“They’re angry.” Will shuddered, rubbing his legs together. “A-And hungry. But they don’t cook any of the meat or the organs, it’s just.. raw. I don’t understand it.”

“That’s certainly more than you knew last time we spoke of it,” Hannibal commented, inhaling again. Will’s scent was something he had grown accustomed to, over their shared time together. It smelled like dog fur, water, and almost homey. Lately, though, the sweaty smell of brain inflammation had soured it, a sickly illness plaguing the mind.

Until now. It was gone. 

Even the last time they spoke, Hannibal was still able to pinpoint it, if he stepped close enough. But now? There was nothing. 

“I guess. I feel like I’m stuck in a rut.”

“You simply haven’t found the exit yet. Have faith, dear Will. It will come to you, as it always does.”

Will ran his hands over his face, scrubbing the skin there with a sigh. “Hopefully.”

Hannibal found himself intrigued by the disappearance of the encephalitis, letting his curiosity bloom. “Have you been feeling better since your absence?”

The other man squinted, and Hannibal could tell his expression was closing off. “Yeah. It was just a minor thing, really.”

Standing up, he walked over to his desk, ruffling through the papers organized on it. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but he was strangely restless. “Good. I’d not have you feeling unwell, and not allowing yourself to be taken care of.”

There was a cough behind him, and when Hannibal turned, Will’s face was painted with a pretty pink blush. His heart beat just a little faster at the sight. 

_ Attachments. _

“Well, good thing I’m better now.” Will murmured, standing up and joining him near the desk. The silence stretched between them, and in close proximity, Hannibal could pick up a new scent. 

Danger.


End file.
